Will (2017) s01e02 Episode Script

1 [Fire crackling.]
More wine? I N-no.
It is my best Gascon.
You do not like it? No.
I mean y-yes.
Do not fear.
If you deal plainly with me, I will be as gentle as a lamb.
[Exhales sharply.]
Who wrote the letter? I know not, sir.
Read it to me again.
[Inhales sharply.]
"Bring F-F-Father Southwell to the secure house.
" Where is the secure house? I know not.
Justice Young! Our guest tires of sitting.
- Let's give him a little ease.
- [Whispers.]
No.
No! No, no, please! Please! No! Please, no! No, no, no, no! [Blows air.]
[Chanting.]
Will! Will! Will! Will! Will! [Cheering.]
Light.
What light through yonder Through yonder window.
What light through yonder window Breaks? But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? [Chuckles.]
That's good.
A new play? Something I've had rolling around my head for ages.
It'll probably come to nought.
You're up early.
I needed somewhere quiet to think.
Sleep did not come last night.
Baxter? Baxter's only concern is obscure Ancient Grecian poetry.
How could he be mixed up in religion and politics? Who can say what secrets lie within a man's soul? But do not worry yourself further.
All will be well.
I know it.
How's your hand? It's improving.
So you no longer need me to scribe.
I'll always have need of thee.
I mean I'll always need your help.
[Laughs.]
Of course.
London is dangerous.
Left to his own devices, a country bumpkin like you could end up in trouble.
[Scoffs.]
I doubt it not.
But come.
Hmm? Today we will see if anyone shall pay to see a Shakespeare play.
[Cheering in distance.]
"Tamburlaine the Ghost" by William Shakespeare! Long live your highness! And happy be his reign! Long live your highness! And happy be your reign! Proud David, King of Scots.
What moved thee to contradict our most royal decree? No willful disobedience, my Lorrrd.
[Murmuring.]
No willful disobedience, my Lorrrd! [Laughter.]
No willful disobedience, my Lorrrd! [Laughter.]
No willful disobedience, Ooh! No willful disobedience My Lord! [Cheering, laughter.]
[Southwell speaking Latin.]
- Amen.
- Amen.
- Bless you, Father.
- Bless you, Father.
Bless you, Father.
Father Southwell.
Benedicte.
[Kisses.]
What news of my cousin and the letter? None.
Sir Francis.
From Mr.
Topcliffe.
The warrant is denied.
Lord Walsingham, I wrote to her Majesty personally.
You're acquainted with my nephew, Thomas? Oh, yes.
We've had the pleasure.
Baxter was carrying a letter for the traitor Southwell.
Your evidence is flimsy.
Pity tis you did not surveil the suspect until you had proof positive.
The future lies not in torture, Mr.
Topcliffe, but intelligence, something I wish you had a little more of.
How many people's lives might'st thou have saved that are untimely sunk into their graves? Ooh, hoo hoo! [Murmuring, woman laughs.]
[Whispers.]
Cockerel Tavern, hour of six.
[Scoffs.]
I trust we shall arrive three kings, two princes, and a queen! [Cheers and applause.]
[Singing indistinctly.]
Master Burbage - Out of way.
- [Laughs.]
- Did you see what Richard did? - Boxman, uh, the king's crown.
[Kemp shouts.]
Richard Down front Did you see her? - Big - Yes, I saw What are we holding a mirror up to? Nature! So in what in nature's name made you deliver the final speech to a woman in the pit? She was gorgeous.
It was the most nature-al thing in the world.
Oh, piss off! Careful, ya heathen! Anything gets tattered or torn, and it's your neck! Up your arse, Cyclops! Mr.
Kemp, sir, your jigs are wondrous, but at the end, the mood is somber, so perhaps you could be still? Who do you think you're talking to? He's killed men for less.
[Men laugh.]
I only suggest that if you suit your action to the play, your undoubted greatness may yet increase, as does as a prince's increases to a king.
I am already king! [Men laugh.]
Let me illuminate something for you, laddie.
James Burbage and I built this theatre with our bare hands.
Your job is to write parts that make me shine.
Oh, shite.
Oh.
[Men laughing.]
Rent and expenses, 3 pounds.
[Coins clatter.]
Share is a tenth share each Which leaves 5 pence.
5 pence for the hired men.
For you.
Right.
Master Shakespeare.
[Coins clatter.]
I should be paid more.
[Murmurs, laughs.]
We played my play today.
Your play? No, no.
No.
You brought us something half-good.
We turned it into something half-decent.
Yeah.
Helped of course, by poor, dear Baxter, arrested in strange, mysterious circumstances.
I cannot help Baxter's arrest.
I do not claim you can.
Tis the terrible times we live in.
Yeah.
And the show must play on.
Tomorrow, we play "Friar Bacon, Friar Bungay.
" What? "Friar Bacon" again? A comedy! Play to our strengths, Master Kemp.
[Groans.]
The theatre was full today.
Of penny-paying groundlings.
But yesterday Was a free performance.
I play your play again tomorrow, I lose money.
[Ascending footsteps.]
Come with me.
Plays generally run no more than two days in a week.
If it's a good play, we rerun it.
"Friar Bacon" is a reliable classic.
But the public have an insatiable appetite for the new.
[Indistinct conversations.]
Getting good new plays is a constant bloody nightmare.
Henslowe's got me by the balls.
He has all the best writers on contract.
- I'm left with the dross.
- Like me.
Your play's a penny a dozen.
It was mainly Kemp's tricks and jigs that made the crowd happy.
You know, he is our greatest asset.
And instead of criticizing him, you should be grateful.
Audiences want to be entertained.
And I suspect you have some talent.
Write me a new play.
If it's good, I'll pay.
Sir, I shall write a play that is both new and good.
And for that play, you shall undoubtedly pay.
Go to it.
I have no money for paper.
Here.
Write your masterpiece el reverso this shit.
Richard, I'm going to write you a part to rival the great Tamburlaine.
Then I shall hold a mirror up to Nature.
I know.
Alice! I have a new idea for a play that is both tragic and comic.
Seems like you've been speaking to father.
[Chuckles.]
Alice, I haven't told you the plot.
- This yourn? - Yes.
I catch thee sleeping in the theatre again, I'll cut your cock off and feed it thee for breakfast.
I need a room.
The Boar's Head.
Recommended by one outstanding quality it's cheap.
[Clanking.]
[Cheering, indistinct conversations.]
Hey! Liars, cheats, thieves, atheists, perverted, poverty-stricken, and worst of all prone to melancholy.
No players.
[Clears throat.]
Dear lady, I am none of these.
Hmm.
And quite especially un-melancholic.
He is in fact a genius.
Very happy genius.
Well, I am sort-hearted [Stifles laughs.]
when it comes to pretty young men, hmm? [Chuckles.]
Thank you, sweet lady.
Rent's 2 shillings a month in advance.
I don't have it quite now.
Ohh.
Then come back when you do.
I'll have it soon.
Would you lay hands on me, sir?! If I profane, with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand, the smooth, rough touch with a tender kiss.
Ohh.
[Sighs.]
See? A genius.
And when I sell my play Then he can pay.
[Chuckles.]
Oh, you naughty boys! [Laughs.]
Oh, I'm notoriously yielding.
I'll give you a week's stay on the rent.
And meantime, you can clean the shit-pots.
[Laughs.]
We must live fast, die young.
[Pats arm.]
Autolycus is paying.
Wait [Seabirds calling.]
[Applause.]
[Cheering.]
The groundlings today were insufferable.
Dear son-in-law, your greatness shone as a rose growing in dung.
[Inhales deeply.]
Takings are up.
With you as our star, and all the best playwrights under contract, it won't be long before Burbage is dead and buried.
[Chuckles.]
I hear he has a new playwright.
Shake something or other.
Shakedick.
And the good news is, Kemp hates him.
- Really? - Yes.
They've clashed.
[Bear growling.]
[Chuckles.]
Here, my beauty.
Pretend this is Burbage's head.
[Growls, chomps.]
Like that.
Now is the perfect time to bring Kemp to the Rose.
Pity the idiot's so loyal.
But every man has his weakness.
[Bear growling.]
What do you say, Master Kemp? Will you come to the Rose? - Suck my drumstick.
- You miserable miscreant.
At the Rose, you shall have free reign.
Just you, alone on stage.
I'll pay you triple what Burbage pays you.
Your true genius will finally be allowed to soar.
You remember our beer merchant, Master Keenan Cooper? Yes.
His wit is even flatter than his ale.
Your wit is unkind.
Poor dear gentleman of late lost his wife.
Hmm.
Died of boredom, I suspect.
Do you think to stay unbridled forever? No.
I must be saddled with a husband to ride me into the ground until I am a useless old nag.
[Exhales deeply.]
[Descending footsteps.]
Tomorrow's props are laid out, Miss Alice.
Thank you, Boxman.
Miss Alice! Is something wrong? I don't like to get involved in the business of the likes of Marlowe But I warn ye, be careful of him.
Why? What do you know? I won't breathe a word.
I saw Marlowe cut Baxter.
Cut him? Aye.
His hand.
Vicious, and with no cause.
Right before Topcliffe dragged him away.
[Taps quill.]
[Laughter in distance.]
"Dearest Anne, I write to you from my small but charming room.
The writing progresses apace, but I miss you and the children terribly.
" Get thee to a nunnery, thou pox-ridden, heartless whore! [Footsteps in hallway.]
[Men shouting, laughter.]
"Get thee to a [Footsteps approach.]
[Knock on door.]
nunnery.
" [Knock on door.]
[Door creaks.]
Alice? How did you cut your hand? Ah, my prince, might this noble knight trouble thee for a cup of sack? - I don't have any wine.
Sorry.
- Beer? If you banish plump Jack, my prince, you banish all the world! [Door creaks.]
[Jack laughs.]
- Come on! - Least my neighbors are colorful.
mouthy, famished plump Jack! Marlowe cut Baxter's hand.
What? Before his arrest.
The same hand as yours.
Why would he do that? I don't know.
Are you a spy? A Catholic? [Stammers.]
The truth.
The less you know, the better.
You think that because I'm a woman, you can smile and smile and play me for a fool? [Inhales sharply.]
Believe me, you bring danger to the theatre or my family, I will not rest until your head is on a spike.
Alice Are we not friends? Trust me.
Please.
I am Catholic.
How did you cut your hand? I was robbed.
Of what? I was carrying a letter for my cousin, Father Robert Southwell.
[Scoffs.]
Southwell? You are a spy.
It was an unlooked-for obligation.
That is all.
I-I don't know why Marlowe cut Baxter, but Should have been you who was arrested and not him.
[Exhales sharply.]
[Metal clanks.]
[Screams.]
Aah! I'll tell you anything you desire! [Chains rattling.]
[Sobbing.]
Where is the secure house? I don't know! Where is Southwell? I swear, I No! [Sobs.]
[Metal scraping.]
Aah! Aah, please! Shall we not answer to Walsingham? [Groans, cries.]
I do but set him against the wall.
Tis no torture to make a man feel the weight of his soul.
Aah! Please! I came to London to find [Scoffs.]
greatness.
But my play is no good.
And once again, I'm dragged back into the eternal question of God and duty.
There's no point drawing attention to it.
It's healing well.
I must write.
First, I must see Marlowe.
Jesus Christ was a bastard, Saint Mary a whore, and the Angel Gabriel a bawd to the Holy Ghost.
[Laughter.]
The upstart crow.
I hear that Burbage has taken off that stinkard of yours and put on a real play.
"Friar Bacon, Friar Bungay"? Thy precious degree was wasted on that.
But my quarrel is not with thee.
- We must speak privately.
- Privately?! He would converse with Marlowe's privates [Laughter.]
We must speak.
Go suck, minstrel.
[Indistinct conversations.]
Why didst thou cut Baxter? Surely you mean, "I thank thee for my life.
" That's not for you to decide.
Thou art aright.
And to remedy my mistake, all you need do is tell Topcliffe the truth.
Yes.
Yes.
[Sighs.]
[Woman speaks indistinctly, laughs.]
Cowards die many times before their deaths.
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Death will come when it will come.
[Dog barks in distance.]
I saw greatness.
That's why I saved you.
Topcliffe was coming for someone, and the lesser of two evils was the lesser of two poets.
The lesser of two poets? A perfectly valid argument if you're a theatre lover.
A man's life is not a toy.
Topcliffe was denied a warrant.
He will soon realize that Baxter knows nothing and will release him.
But if you admit guilt, you will be tortured.
And who might Topcliffe come for next? [Footsteps approaching.]
Friends, family, Burbage's pretty daughter.
Would you put them in danger for nought? Greatness comes at a cost.
Yours is to endure your guilt.
[Men shout in distance.]
He will be released? Come.
Drink with me.
[Singsongy.]
She's not coming, Richard.
Of course she is.
Some men are blessed with a seventh sense - concerning women.
- A seventh sense.
It's almost a curse.
I'm guessing you're the actor.
- And who are you? - Molly.
Molly who? [Chortles.]
[Liquid sloshes.]
My mistress requests a private performance.
[Liquid sloshes.]
A private performance? Your mistress? Shall we? [Indistinct conversations, laughter.]
You see? Seventh sense.
Wow.
She really is a lady.
Yeah, you have no idea.
It's all one.
Onstage, I can be a king.
Surely you've seen me act? Men pretending to be something they're not? - I get that for free.
- You're missing out on greatness.
I doubt it.
Once you've seen me act, you'll doubt no more.
Mm-hmm.
The scene is set for greatness.
Hmm.
Ehm Well, I mean what should I do? Give a wonderful performance.
Hmm.
[Clears throat.]
Hmm.
[Fire crackling.]
[Clears throat.]
[Knee thuds.]
How many civil towns had stood untouched [Chuckles.]
No need for that.
that now are turned to ragged heaps of stone? Don't speak.
- [Loudly.]
That now - I said don't speak.
Unbutton.
- Uh - Quickly, my prince.
Uh yes, my lady.
[Clothing thuds.]
Take me, my prince.
Conquer me.
[Moaning.]
[Panting.]
So you do like a bit of theatre, eh, Moll? [Moans.]
First, having done my duty as I I said don't speak.
I am an actor, and when I act, I am moved to greatness.
[Sighs.]
Very well.
How many [Moaning.]
civil towns had stood untouched [Chuckles.]
What are you writing now? [Liquid sloshes.]
The greatest play to have ever been scribed by hand mortal or divine.
What's it about? I'm still in the research phase.
Why do you work for Topcliffe? You work for Southwell.
I work for no one.
Then why risk thy life? What I am and what I wish to be are not one and the same.
And what do you wish to be? Hmm? Successful? Rich? Admired? The spell cannot be cast unless you say the words! Dost thou desire money? Power? Greatness? Oh, speak, coward! Speak! Yes! Money, power, greatness! [Laughs.]
But above all, freedom! [Breathing heavily.]
[Laughing.]
Give me Southwell, and we'll both be richer than Croesus.
And you you shall have all the freedom you desire.
So that is why you saved me? "Who knows why," said the spider to the fly.
Why dost thou flee, hmm? If you desire freedom, freedom is before thee! No.
Tis not.
Tis not.
How did you enjoy your first performance? What are you talking about? I saw you.
Where? It's all right.
She's beautiful and rich, and I'm, well great.
[Sighs.]
And you're you.
You wanted to watch what you couldn't have.
That's what theatre is.
There's no shame in it.
[Chuckles.]
You idiot.
It wasn't me watching.
It was Lord Deveraux, her husband.
Husband? He [Sighs.]
[Gate creaking.]
likes a bit of theatre.
Here's your fee.
Fee? - Do you think I'm a whore? - An actor? There's a difference? You played your part, all is well.
I was pretty good.
Come to the theatre tomorrow.
- I told you, I - As my guest.
I hold the mirror up to nature.
Ooh, mirror up to nature? It's a new thing I'm doing.
Very natural.
Come and see for yourself.
Good night, Richard.
The mirror up to nature! The letter who was it to be delivered to? [Cries.]
Please.
[Chains rattle.]
I know not.
[Coughs.]
Then who cut your hand? Marlowe, I swear! [Chuckles.]
Marlowe.
Again you lie.
No.
No.
[Wheel squeaks.]
No.
No! [Cries, grunts.]
[Weight and hooks rattles.]
No.
[Crying.]
No.
Aah! No! [Grunts.]
Ah! [Metal clanks.]
[Screaming.]
[Sobs.]
[Gasps, laughs.]
[Strained voice.]
Of course.
That explains his genius.
[Groans, grunts.]
Marlowe? [Groans.]
The Crow.
[Coughs.]
Crow? [Gagging.]
Speak! Wait! Wait, speak! Young! Justice Young! Get him down.
[Continues gagging.]
Wouldst thou die in sin and spend eternity in hell?! No! What hast thou written for me? A lover? A tyrant? A prince? Uh, all three.
Ah! [Kisses.]
Tyrant suits him best.
Alice - I have an idea for a scene.
- Yes? Don't worry, Baxter will soon be released.
[Screams.]
There's no [Gasps.]
Oh! Who is the master here? I am, your lordship.
James Burbage.
Poor man had an apoplexy, or perhaps he died of shame.
An easy thing for a traitorous player.
Mercifully, it spared him a traitor's death, so you have the whole body to return rather than quarters.
Good day.
[Murmuring.]
[Exhales sharply.]
[Gasps.]
[Exhales shakily.]
Cover him up, someone.
[Inhales shakily.]
[Sobbing.]
How will we survive? Who will care for us? Peace.
Peace.
My children will starve.
What peace is there in that? My father died.
Yes.
I'm sorry.
Were you his friend? [Whispers.]
Of course.
My dog died, too, but he was old.
Michael, come here.
[Crying.]
[Indistinct conversations.]
Where are you going? His children are the same age as mine.
You cannot change what is done.
No, but I must do something.
[Metal clanking.]
You're the one who should be dead! - I want gold.
- Out of my way.
I'll go to Topcliffe! Who do you think I work for? Piss off before you get yourself into more trouble than you're already in.
It's over.
We had our fun, but the party is done.
We started this place.
We were the first! And now we're the last.
This place runs like a one-legged blind whore.
Corpses onstage? My talents are wasted.
- Oh, you ungrateful piece of - Save the drama, Jimmy.
- What Your talent - I'm a man of comedy.
Please, don't do this.
[Laughs.]
The rat leaves the sinking ship, does it, eh? Well, stuff me! [Objects clatter.]
[All gasp.]
He's right! We're done! We're finished! - Get out! Get out! - James! Be still! It's over.
Richard will play Kemp's part tonight.
Richard? [Scoffs.]
Baxter's corpse would be funnier than Richard! Hush now.
Not in front of the company.
Who died? [Laughs.]
Baxter did, you idiot.
I know.
It's an expression.
Richard.
You will be playing Friar Bacon.
- Ah! But will Master Kemp agree? - [Groans.]
Oh.
It is my belief that true genius cannot be bound.
It must exist in the swirling chaos of anarchy.
Do you understand? [Murmurs.]
Do you? Yes, of course, Master Marlowe.
[Chuckles.]
A man is dead because of you.
[Conversations stop.]
Only one? I must be more prolific.
[Laughter.]
An accident.
Fortune and Baxter were never friends.
I want the fee you earned from Baxter, or I go to Topcliffe.
You won't do that, Master Shakespeare.
[Whispers.]
I know you.
And if you know anything about Catholics, you know we must atone for our sins, one way or another.
You are a curiosit.
- Topcliffe! - Please, my lords.
One moment.
- Topcliffe! - Sir Francis.
[Chuckles.]
Do you fish? You tortured the player, Baxter.
Mm, I did but set him against the wall.
Tis no torture to make a man feel the weight Do not equivocate with me.
He is dead, and the treacherous pope now has one more reason to accuse our majesty of tyranny.
She is, eh most displeased.
Our gracious queen knows full well the love I bear her.
Prove it, Mr.
Topcliffe.
Find Southwell, or I will find one who can serve her better.
[Door closes.]
[Women moaning, baby crying.]
[Thud.]
[Gasps.]
What did you get? Nothing yet, but it's leading to something, sis.
There's Catholic business between Marlowe and Shakespeare, and when I figure it, we'll have the prize.
Prize? I raise you up after our poor mother died, and the only prize I get is to suck filthy cock till doomsday.
Sooner I die, the better.
Don't say that! Better off dead.
[Baby wailing.]
[Whispers.]
Don't cry, sis.
I'll get you out of here.
You'll see.
I don't remember John speaking of you.
[Sniffling.]
We all took up a collection.
Thank you.
He used to fear that he was not liked.
Yes.
Thank you, Master Shakespeare.
[Sobbing.]
- It's not enough.
- I agree, but it is something.
Now you must swear that you'll bring no more danger to The Theatre or my family.
I swear I will never bring danger to you or those you love.
It's a disaster! Kemp's gone, and Richard's taking his part! [Sex Pistols' "Pretty Vacant" playing.]
Thou wrongst me in detracting thus! [Audience booing.]
Get off! Thou wrongst me in detracting thus! - Go, you bastard! - This is all your fault! I told you, "Write something funny for Kemp!" Come on, Richard! [Audience shouting, booing.]
[Booing continues.]
[Laughter.]
[Screams.]
[Laughter.]
[Singsongy.]
Burbage is dead and buried.
[Laughing.]
[Cheers and applause.]
Sir.
Sir.
I'm lost, sir.
Sir, I am lost.
I am lost, sir.
Sir! Sir? Sir? I am lost.
[Chuckles.]
Dear child, where are you to be? My father went drinking.
[Voice breaks.]
He forgot to take me home.
Let me help you.
Come with me, hmm? [Whispers.]
Come.
You open your mouth like a good girl, and then I'll see you home.
Go on.
[Clears throat.]
That's a girl.
[Gasps.]
[Unsheaths blade.]
Ah! Give me your purse, and I'll spare your family jewels.
[Grunts.]
[High-pitched shout.]
[Whimpers.]
[Gasping.]
Dirty old spider! Piss off, you scrumrat! [Slices.]
Aah! [Groans.]
And stay away from little girls! Aah! Aah! Got it?! Got it? [Whimpers, pants.]
We are done.
Don't bother turning up tomorrow because the audience won't.
Unto you all good night.
Master Kemp! Master Kemp! Jesus Christ.
What, what, what, what?! Master Kemp, I can make you the greatest comic London has ever seen.
I am already great.
Now piss off.
You can make people laugh, but what if you could also make them cry? One day, I will write you such parts that all the world will scream the name of Kemp.
[Door creaks, thuds.]
Such parts as what? Such as a fat, drunken knight, past his glory, who loves nothing but to eat, board wenches, and tell tales, and who is friend to a prince, whom he loves like a son, but who, when he becomes king, banishes the fat rogue for the very knavery he once loved him for.
And when he banishes plump Jack, he banishes all the world, and all the world cry for him.
All the world cry for him.
[Applause.]
Nice.
- Good.
- I like that.
[Man laughs.]
[Knocks on door.]
[Indistinct singing in distance.]
[Whispers.]
Don't! The debt collectors! [Knock.]
- Would you disturb my peace?! - No! Fool! They'll drag you to prison! I care not.
What more is left? [Screaming, laughing.]
The boy's a genius! I'll make them laugh.
I'll make them cry! [Laughs.]
It's such a perfect day I'm glad I spent it with you Oh, such a perfect day You just keep me hanging on You just keep me hanging on [Laughter.]
[Singing melody of Lou Reed's "Perfect Day".]
[Cheering, laughter.]
All's well that ends well.
William the Conqueror.
It's good we're finally friends.
[Woman squeals, laughs.]
[Kisses.]
- Master Shakespeare.
- You're going to reap Talk with me.
Just what you sow just what you sow No, I just [Ellen speaks indistinctly.]
[Singing melody.]
[Man cheers.]